


Penance

by castielrisingabove



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, Gen, Minor Angst, Post Season 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 19:25:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7119376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielrisingabove/pseuds/castielrisingabove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Castiel comes to live in the Bunker, Dean can't help but notice something isn't quite right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Penance

It’s strange. When Mary and Castiel moved into the Bunker, Dean expected Mary to go all mother-mode on them. And while she had a tendency to call Dean “sweetie” and ruffle his hair, it turned out that Mary was more than ready to start her life up as a young, single huntress. She’d told him as much as she moved in, the tank-top she’d selected at Goodwill _far_ too revealing for Dean’s taste.

Which was why Dean was surprised to find breakfast waiting for him the following morning. It wasn’t perfect, the toast was a bit burned and the eggs a bit dry, but it was large and savory and even included bacon. They never had bacon in the Bunker, not after Sam deemed it a health hazard. Sam looked equally surprised to find breakfast and Dean was left to surmise the breakfast had been made by none other than Castiel.

Huh. Not bad for a guy who’d spent the majority of his life not eating food.

Dean scanned the kitchen, but Cas was nowhere to be seen. Eventually he found Castiel sweeping a long hallway towards the end of the Bunker. Strange. Dean thanked Cas, who merely nodded in response before resuming sweeping.

The next morning followed not unlike the first, with a large stack of soft, fluffy blueberry pancakes that spread the size of the plate. Dean drowned the pile in syrup, moaning with pleasure as he shoveled the meal into his mouth. He could get used to this sort of treatment, Dean decided. Once again, though, Cas was nowhere to be seen.

This elaborate breakfast routine continued for a week before Dean became aware of other things starting to happen. His laundry disappeared from his basket and reappeared on his bed, all neatly folded. A couple of heat packets were piled carefully on his desk after Dean had been injured in a hunt. One night, Dean complained the Impala was starting to get dirty and _the next morning_ she gleamed like she’d just rolled off the assembly line.

Every time Dean tried to thank Cas, however, he was met with merely a terse smile or quick nod. What was more, Castiel seemed to be growing more and more tense. Dean could see the horror sweep across those familiar blue eyes when Sam mentioned in passing how unhealthy the breakfasts were getting. Sam had meant it in all affection, unused to being spoiled in this way, but the next morning Dean couldn’t help but notice Sam’s breakfast had changed to oatmeal, packed with nuts and berries and all sorts of other health foods only someone like Sam could enjoy.

Dean wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t want to offend Castiel and he certainly didn’t want to make Castiel seem unwanted, but Dean feared saying the wrong thing. He always said the wrong thing and always seemed to make things worse.

So he didn’t say anything.

Not when he noticed Castiel getting up earlier and earlier to ensure the Winchesters got a hot breakfast before they all left on a hunt.

Not when he noticed that Castiel never, not once, ate the elaborate meals he’d constructed, instead opting for a piece of fruit or stale granola bar.

Not even when he saw Cas choking back tears when a load of laundry came out stained.

No, Dean set his jaw and went about his own business. Cas, he tried to reason, would be fine. He was simply adjusting to humanity again. Dean knew they were lies, but he couldn’t bring himself to try to figure out the truth.

He hit breaking point late one night, several months later. They’d gotten back late from a hunt, Sam and Mary barely able to hold back yawns as they made their way to their rooms. Dean hung back, waiting for the familiar sound of Cas’ sock-clad feet padding past his room, but the noise never came.

Instead, he could hear the faint sound of water running. Dean quietly made his way to the kitchen, where he found Castiel frantically scrubbing dishes, the lines in his face evident in the harsh lighting.

“Why do you do all of this?” Dean asked, rubbing the doorframe with the palm of his hand. Anything to shift the focus away from seeing Castiel slaving so hard.

Cas slipped, the knife he was scrubbing scraping the back of his hand. Blood began to pour from it, but Castiel didn’t seem to notice. “Penance,” he replied, voice gravely as he continued to wash the dishes.

“What?” Dean gripped the doorframe. Of all the things for Castiel to say, this wasn’t a response Dean expected. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

The now clean knife is set on a drying rack as Cas moved on to scrub a cutting board. His blood spilled freely down the side, a pink stain on the white kitchen utensil. “If I keep doing good deeds,” Cas muttered through gritted teeth, “One day I might make up for all my mistakes.”

“That’s not how it works.”

Cas whirled around, sponge in one hand, the other red with blood. “Then what do I do?” his voice rough, eyes tinged red with unshed tears, “If I can’t earn my place here, do I leave?”

A chill ran through Dean as he took a careful step towards Cas. Leave? He can’t imagine Castiel leaving, not again. “You don’t have to earn your place here.”

The angel’s shoulders fell, eyes resigned. “It’s not enough, is it?”

Dean wished, not for the first time, that his words would come out as clearly as they sounded in his head. “It’s more than enough,” he said, taking another step towards Castiel, “You’re welcome here no matter what you do.”

“Not until the mistakes are gone,” Cas’ voice wobbled, “Not until I earned it.”

Keeping his movements slow, Dean pulled a roll of bandage from a nearby drawer before taking another careful step towards Castiel.

“You’re not going to want me,” the hopelessness in Cas’ tone nearly broke Dean’s heart, “Nobody wants a useless angel.”

Silence hung over their heads as Dean continued to bridge the gap between himself and Cas, only the sounds of water trickling from the sink remained. Dean doesn’t even hesitate when he’s close, gently taking Cas’ calloused hand in his own and unravelling the bandage to carefully wind around the cut.

“I do,” Dean replied simply, “I want you no matter what.” He keeps his eyes down, focusing on the task at hand. If he looked up, Dean’s afraid he’d lose his nerve.

Cas’ breath hitched. Dean carefully tied the bandage, heart pounding as he finally made himself look up.

Tears trickled out of the familiar blue eyes, which roved Dean’s face as though trying to figure out if Dean was telling the truth.

“Please don’t leave,” Dean croaked before pulling Castiel into a tight hug. The kind of hug that was warm and loving and oh so desperate. Castiel clung to him, body shaking with sobs as he buried his head in the crook of Dean’s neck.

They stayed like this for a while, how long Dean wasn’t sure, before Cas finally pulled away. “I can really stay?” he whispered.

“Always,” Dean replied, absentmindedly brushing a tear from Cas’ cheek.

The next morning, Dean woke up early. Quietly, he made his way to the kitchen, stirring eggs with vanilla and milk. Slicing bread. Carefully trying to recreate the French toast he’d seen Castiel drooling over one hunt. It might not have been perfect, but the smile on Cas’ face was.

“It’s not penance,” Dean explained, a strange warm feeling rising up in his heart to see Castiel so happy, “It’s love.”


End file.
